


Stand, run, dance

by lindt_barton



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Drabbles, Finn is force sensitive, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, attempt to make a droid speak in programming language, finn learns to dance, poe has nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 17:53:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6480664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindt_barton/pseuds/lindt_barton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connected FinnPoe drabbles that never managed to become a fic. Finn recovers, Poe has nightmares, they both dance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stand, run, dance

He ran his fingers down FN's helmet. It should have been his face. His last word was, "Run."

* * *

"Careful, he's injured !"

"I can see that," she says, "Why are you in my way, pilot?"

Poe breaks eye contact, chastised, he speaks low, "I'm all he's got."

Rey comes later, of course. Poe should have guessed that he wouldn't be the only person to stick to Finn. She leaves not long after, with a mission more important than his which started this and a threat involving Poe's neck and Finn's wellbeing.

* * *

He'd stay by the bed, if this were a romance. But kid, he has a resistance to lead. When he's lucky he steals five minutes to check on Finn. Poe leans in the doorway. The light is low at this hour, but still cold and artificial. His eyes are full of grit.

Poe watches him breathe, because there is nothing else to watch. It's strange to see all the movement and noise taken out of a person. Stranger still for someone as full of it as Finn.

Finn has been laid face down, his bare torso covered in gauze where skin should be. What's left of the jacket is hung on the back of the seat probably meant for Poe. It stinks of blood and burnt iron. At least... Poe hopes the smell is the jacket, and not Finn's burnt flesh. He's been in stasis for two days, maybe... three. Poe loses track when the missions are hot and his sleep schedule starts doing as many manouveurs as his X-Wing. He can't help but think that if the resistance didn't have such limited faccilities Finn would be awake by now, and his back would end as good as new.

But these are all things he'd thought at more alert hours. For now his temple is resting against the door frame, and his eyes don't seem to be open any more. He drifts, too tired to do anything about it.

BB-8 thumps his calf, "FriendPoe.salutation(exasperated)" She tilts her head around Poe to scan Finn, then produces a sad woo. She shakes her head, "FriendPoe.reportOrder('Tell Commander Dameron I want at least three hours of sleep in him before I'll let him back in his beloved X-Wing', GeneralOrgana)"

Poe nods, scrubs his face with a hand, whistles something along the lines of, "BB8.leadOnMacDuff()"

* * *

When Finn is sick of being sick, he tries to stand up. (When the nurses aren't looking, because he's still not supposed to). Unfortunately his body doesn't remember how to deal with this. The world doesn't go black, so much as grey. He would fall over, but Poe already has an arm around his chest, resting his hand low near his hip, the other propping his chest up. Finn's hands grab whatever they can find (that is, random parts of Poe). He's watching from somewhere else while his body deals with the situation. Poe is speaking to him, he thinks, but the words don't quite get through. He's staring at his feet, he says, "If we fell, they left us there," and he doesn't know why. He looks and Poe and Poe is looking at him. Poe smiles, not happily, and says, "That's not how we do things here." Finn nods. He can never speak when Poe those things. His thumb is stroking circles on Finn's chest.

Finn squirms, says, "Let me-" but Poe nods and lets go of him before he finishes. Though he hovers close with steady hands, and doesn't take his eyes off him. Finn wobbles. Takes a _tiny_ shuffle of a step and _beams_. Oh, Poe sees the room light up, and feels a smile torn out of him.

He can't resist it (he can't resist Finn).

* * *

Finn wakes up screaming. No. Finn is running, someone else is screaming. The sound is warped. They're being torn apart. He doesn't know where he's running, but he knows every turn he needs to take.

Finn skids, nearly thuds into Poe's door, whips it open.

Poe is on his back on his bed, his blanket tangled around his legs, his chest bare. There is no screaming. Poe's fists are clenched, the muscles on his jaw are bulging with the tension clamping them shut, his breath is ragged. It is the only noise in the room.

Finn stumbles across the room to Poe, grips him by the shoulders, "Poe!" Poe twists. "Poe, I'm here," Finn finds his hand on the side of Poe's face, fingers stroking through the hair at his temple, his thumb along Poe's cheekbone. "You're safe."

Poe's eyes snap open, but he kicks and struggles, still lost, until his eyes meet Finn's. He gasps, "I killed you I didn't- I didn't know," and clutches Finn, who pulls him into his chest. Poe is gasping for breath, shuddering, Finn realises: sobbing.

* * *

"I don't want to kill anyone."

"So how about," Poe smiles sly, "you do the opposite?"

The general smiles too, "I heard you managed to handle an injured wookie."

Finn is discharged from medical an hour later. He reports back the next morning at 0830 hours. 

* * *

Finn doesn't make a point of waiting for Poe to return, but sometimes he gets lucky. The squadron shoots overhead in perfect formation, Poe's famous black and orange flying at the tip. Finn understands now why he had it painted. He wants everyone to know when the best pilot is in town. Finn rolls his eyes and pretends not to worry about Poe getting hurt.

Finn has heard more than one dramatic retelling of how Poe Dameron exits his X-Wing. They say, he takes off his helmet before he jumps out because his hair is half the experience. Surely, he must check it in a mirror before he gets out. They say, he steps onto the wing, takes a moment to look to the horizon and his profile alone is enough to ensare a heart. They say, if you're lucky he'll smile and wink down at you.

Finn jogs towards Poe's landing bay. BB-8 sees him first. She squeals in delight and thunks onto the ground, already speeding towards Finn's shins. BB's greeting is enough to leave Finn with a limp.

Poe climbs, almost falls, out of the pit. He grunts when he hits the ground, scrubs the back of his neck with his free hand, leaves another trail of dirt on his skin. He'll need a shower, Finn thinks, and the image pops into Finn's head. Only now does Poe spot him, his eyes crinkle, his smile is small, but it is for Finn. They both say hey. Poe pushes sweat-damp hair away from his eyes and it sticks slick at his temples. The image of Poe out of breath flashes through Finn's head. He licks his lips. Poe grabs a hug, practically collapses into Finn's chest, Finn takes the weight. One arm around his chest, the other rests against the back of Poe's neck, his finger tips resting in the hairline. Poe groans, Finn feels his breath hot through his shirt. He smells of sweat and hot oil. He needs a shower. Finn's fingers flex against Poe's nape. Poe sighs, he thumps Finn on the back, which means it's time to get on with life.

Finn says, "Food?" Poe says, "Uuuuh..." and looks over his shoulder at his X-Wing, his baby. BB gives a frustrated twang and thumps the back of Poe's legs. Finn jabs a finger towards BB-8, "I agree with whatever BB just said," Poe's ears turn red, "We eat food, droids service X-Wings." Poe nods and follows alongside Finn. BB-8 makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a wolf whistle.

* * *

Finn learns to dance on the night of the day that Rey sends word that she has found Luke Skywalker.

The evening is warm, the sun low, the sky dyed deep turquoise and base lit with hot orange lamps and fires. Hidden instruments have been brought out to play and the songs blend and shift every couple hundred yards as he walks through the base. Finn swears he can feel it on his fingertips as he runs them through the air.

He's walking to the fifth hangar. Its roof sprang a leak three months ago so it had been emptied of fighters. Tonight it's full of drink and dancing and joy. Poe had said to meet him there.

As he always does, Poe jogs up to him and greets him with a hug. He's slicked back the sides of his hair as if he's trying to impress someone. His jaw is dark with stubble. His shirt is open to low on his breast. Finn can see the hollow at the base of his neck, and the dark hair that starts beneath it.

Poe gets him a drink, far faster than anyone in the resistance but the general could, and then drags him into the foray. He seems to know a third of the people here, and manages to greet them each with some sort of dance-based in joke. Finn gets introduced to them all, and Poe insists that they teach Finn their favourite move from back home. Soon Finn is inventing his own. Whatever skills he lacks, seem to be made up for with his enthusiasm. That is, it seems to make Poe smile. But Poe is definitely very good at this. Finn just _cannot_ move his hips like Poe's, and he cannot keep his eyes off Poe.

At some point, Finn cracks a joke, something neither of them will remember within five minutes, but Poe throws his head back and laughs. He throws an arm around Finn's ribcage and spins them both round and round and neither of them really let go of each other after that. 

Soon the sun is well down, the crowd thinned, the music lower, their dancing perfunctory, and their hips closer. Over Poe's shoulder, Finn realises he's watching two people make out in the gloom. He's hasn't seen people do that since leaving the First Order. Poe spins them both to see what Finn is staring at. He laughs, says something funny about them. Finn isn't listening. "Finn?" Finn licks his lips, his eyes flick down to Poe's, he says, "Nothing." 

Sometimes Finn forgets that he's allowed to have the things that he wants.

Poe leans in an extra inch. One of his hands is low on the back of Finn's neck, the other with fingers curled loose around his wrist. He lowers his eyes to Finn's lips. He speaks from low in his chest, "Do you want to kiss me, Finn?"

Only Finn could simultaneously nod, say, "u-huh," kiss Poe, and get away with it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Just wanted to get these vaguely polished and out there. If it had been a fic Finn would have gotten a habit of bringing home injured storm troopers, BB-8 would have dated a tall red R2 unit, and it would have ended with sad things (if you think I'm any good at writing, be glad I didn't get that far :P ). Comments are love <3


End file.
